Lovesick Radio
by JulietGivesUp
Summary: Based on the song Just Friends by Frickin' A. Witness Alfred F. Jone's lonely, pathetic days as he tries his very best to get over his ex. Stalking, learning Japanese, playing Solitaire, you name it! Poor chap...
1. Here I go, Driving by your house

**Just a small fic to cure an absolutely dreadful case of writer's block. I am going to try my very hardest to update everyday. Perhaps if I continue with this routine, I'll find it easier to write my other stories...  
**

* * *

**Lovesick Radio**

Alfred pulled up at his ex's house, killing the engine. The windows were unmistakably dark; an evident sign that nobody was home, or maybe the inhabitant was just sleeping. It was late at night after all. Two-ten to be exact. Pretty damn close to morning.

Approximately five hours and fifteen minutes left until Arthur wakes up. _If_ he was even there in the first place. God knows what he's been up to these past few months. Alfred never heard from him again after their huge breakup in February. He'd try calling hundreds of times only to find that his number had been blocked by the recipient.

_Your call has been blocked by the contact. Please do not bother calling again, you miserable asshole…_

That's what it sounded like every time he dialed the Brit's number. At least, that's what the paranoid, coffee overloaded, insomniatic, American thought.

As for trying to visit Arthur personally, much less stop over the house, it was completely impossible. Arthur's older brother, a coarse, red-headed Scot, guarded him within a four kilometer radius, 24/7. One step within that circle and he was in for a world of pain. It was only recently that Alfred heard of the scary Scotsman's temporarily leave to the UK. And it was all thanks to Arthur's little brother, Peter, who he now had to constantly send boxes of sweets to, as promised.

The young man paced the driveway of the house, contemplating his next action.

Should he climb the fence? No. Scott would be far too clever for that. Knowing him, he probably high wired the lawn into a minefield or prepared man eating pitbulls, if there were such things.

Maybe he could get through the back!-no, wait. Scott probably fixed an electric, barb-wired fence there too. But perhaps, if he wore stilts he could…no, then the lasers will fry him if the bazookas haven't already fired first.

_Damn you, Scotty…_

Yes, Alfred F. Jones was desperate to reunite with the love of his life again. Extremely cheesy? Yes. Ludicrous? Not for the sake of love, hell no! Even though it was _technically, categorically, in actual fact, scarcely, almost not_ Arthur's fault why they broke up in the first place.

Like all failed relationships, it all started with a smart comment, which then became a conversation, developed into a disagreement, escalated into an argument, evolved into an all-out fight, and then finally ended with the words, "It's over, Jones!"

And that was it.

Gone with the wind, like the double hamburger meal in his hands. Not even a single strand of fries left in the very bottom of the In-n-Out bag where all the extra ketchup was. Alfred mentally cursed himself for not saving at least a single tomato for later consumption.

So here he was; standing like a complete idiot in front of his ex-boyfriend's two-story house at 2:12 in the morning. He kicked a random rock across the street out of random frustration.

Now that they were officially, dare he say it 'finished', Alfred thought of the possibilities of Arthur going into a new relationship with somebody else. Ironically, the first person to pop into his head was old Francey-pants. Francis had been flirting with Arthur even way before he and Alfred met. It was only a matter of time before Arthur would choose the Frenchy in order to spite him. Alfred could only imagine the things they could be doing right now…

Without thinking, Alfred picked up a fairly large rock and chucked it at the topmost bedroom. The rock connected the window with an earsplitting crash. Glass shards flew out everywhere from the sudden impact.

"Oww! What in the bloody hell was that!"

Alfred cringed at the Brit's shriek. He got into the car and sped off before anybody could report him.

Well…at least he was sure Arthur wasn't out that night with Francis…

* * *

**Disclaimer: Everybody knows I don't own Hetalia and its rights. I also do not own the song "Just Friends" by Frickin' A. If you haven't heard it, I suggest that you do, unless you don't want spoilers.**


	2. Learned how to cuss you out in Japanese

**Lovesick Radio (II)  
**

Alfred lazed on his Captain America sheeted bed flinging and catching his old, high school football in the air. God, he was so bored! He never remember feeling this bored when Arthur was around. There were so many things to do, places they could be going to right now.

He and Arthur _could_ be down in Santa Monica playing midway games at the piers and basking in the wonderful Californian sunshine. Or they _could_ be hiking out somewhere in Yosemite where Arthur would be drawing pictures of the wildlife with Alfred pitching the tent and making s'mores for the both of them. Or they _could_ be up in Napa Valley test-drinking the wine and perhaps Arthur could get drunk enough to start acting like a wasted old man. Better yet, they _could_ be in Malibu surfing and drinking piña coladas.

Alfred stared at the California state fair tickets on his desk table. He had already purchased them a full month's advance in hopes that he and Arthur would've made up by then.

"So much for that…," the blonde sighed. What would he do with his life now?

"Screw this. I can't get stuck in the past like an old geezer. I'm nineteen, damn it! I've gotta ton of stuff ahead of me instead of wastin' it on a British dude. Pull yourself together, man! Move on!"

Alfred jumped out of his bed in new found glory.

"Alright! Tomorrow I'm gonna go out and work in the gym. Then I'm gonna go down to Malibu and get drowned with milkshakes. After that I'll take a trip down to Hollywood and stalk Angelina Jolie. With any luck, she'll recognize my awesome, good looking charm and recommend me to a big shot movie director. I'll become a badass superhero in one of their billion-dollar movies and be a famous actor. Then, and only then, will I show off my super awesome movie actor self to Arthur again!"

With a heroic pose, the ambitious young man ran out of his apartment, almost tripping on his flat mate's cat.

Half an hour later, Alfred was found melodramatically sobbing and snacking on a cheeseburger (and occasionally slurping on a strawberry milkshake) by his Japanese roommate, Kiku Honda.

"H-hey Kiku, how do you say 'fuck you, Arthur' in Japanese?"

"Alfred-san, I do not think that is appropria-"

"Oh c'mon, man!"

"W-well…i-it's '_kutabare Arthur-san'_," mumbled the introverted man.

"Hahahaha! 'Kay, now how do you say shithead?"

"A-Alfred-san, I really don't think-"

"Wanna burger?" The blonde smiled and threateningly waved a 'totally maxed out bacon and steak cheeseburger.'

"K-kusotare, b-baka American."

"Hahahaha! I'll make sure to remember that one. It might come in handy when I see Arthur again. Alright, now how about-…Kiku? Dude?" Alfred scratched his head searched all over the apartment complex for his missing buddy.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **

**1. Yes, the story takes place in good ol' California. I've been to all those places, from NorCal to SoCal. In my completely biased opinion, California is one of the most beautiful states of America. **

**2. I apologize if the Japanese is wrong. I don't know anybody who can help and translate it to romaji.  
**


	3. Smashed my brother's violin

**Lovesick Radio (III)  
**

Alfred sighed wearily for the hundredth time that day. He had just finished organizing his DVD collection, most of which were horror and suspense types. Back in high school, Alfred would always buy scary movies and invite Arthur to enjoy it with him. The two would watch it together with a huge bowl of popcorn in between them with the lights out and the surround sound speakers blast up in full volume.

Being the lame casanova that he was back then, Alfred would 'pretend' to be scared shitless just to cling onto Arthur's stiff figure. The Brit never failed to tease him about it, but not once did he ever pull away. Afterwards, they would fall asleep in the couch and wake up the next day a little sore but happy.

The American shook his head to clear his mind. He groaned and plopped down on the chair next to the computer. Clicking on a little card icon, he started yet another game of solitaire. He had been playing the addicting game ever since the breakup, finding nothing else better to do. Playing the game at least 928 times, you'd think he was a total boss at it. Unfortunately, he'd only ever won once -all thanks to Arthur.

Alfred smacked the computer screen for losing the game yet again. "So frickin' close to winning. How does _he_ win this thing so effortlessly?"

"Mind keeping it down today, Al?" his twin brother called from the living room. Matthew actually lived in the dorm right next to his but the Canadian would frequently pop in now a days to keep Alfred's sanity in check and maybe munch off some free food, or whatever he could get from the American's fridge.

Today however, Matthew dropped in for some peace and quiet; something he could not get due to some unfortunate circumstances from his rowdy roommates. The Canadian had a big recital coming up and he had the honor of playing a special solo in the school's elite orchestra.

Matthew balanced his violin between his chin and shoulder and performed the piece. Much to his dismay, the amity did not last long. The young man winced and came to an abrupt stop as a loud crashing sound followed by several curses emanated from his brother's room.

"You okay?" he hesitantly asked as he entered the room still carrying his instrument.

"Just peachy, bro…"

"Look Al, you seriously need to get over Arthur. It's been months since you guys last saw each other and I really need to tell you that Arthur's a lot happier now," Matthew paused with a small grin. "Believe it or not, he's actually smiling all the time whenever I see him in the classroom."

"You don't get it man. He's obviously just doing that to rub it in when he says he's over me. I bet he's laughing his ass off at me right this second."

"Arthur doesn't hate you. I think that Arthur is way past that; he is a gentleman after all. And I actually talked to him a couple days back."

Alfred's ocean blue eyes looked up expectantly at his twin brother. "Yeah?"

"Well, he said that he was over the whole thing and that you two could be just friends."

"Damn it! I don't wanna be 'just friends' with him, Mattie. And it's even worse than I thought!"

A long period of silence occupied the whole room as Alfred pondered silently to himself. It was the perfect atmosphere for Matthew to play his violin solo and so he did. Matthew vigorously plucked and pulled the bow up and down creating a dramatic, depressing tune.

It certainly did its job as the American gradually felt even more pathetic. After wallowing in self-pity a bit longer, the music started to get into his nerves. He begged the violinist to stop, but Matthew was too entranced with his own skills that he refused Alfred's request and kept playing. Louder and louder played the violin.

_This was the last straw…_

Alfred snatched the cursed instrument from his brother and smashed it wildly on his steel coffee table. Matthew watched horrified at the gruesome homicide of his precious, shiny four-stringed companion. He nearly fainted as he saw the deathly remains of the violin. It was all but pieces of wood and rubble now.

The young man looked back and forth at his brother and the smithereens, mouth agape. What the hell was he going to use for the big performance now? Roderich was _so_ going to kill him.

"Hehe…whoops. Sorry Mattie," Alfred muttered sheepishly. "I'll pay you back," he added after a second thought.

"Damn right you will, stupid Yankee."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**Yosh! I'd say I'm doing pretty good so far! I haven't broken yet! I hope I can keep this up and actually finish the whole story. My goal right now is to make it pass Chapter 5. I don't know about this thing with the number 28 and 5 with me. It seems like I always stop or lose interest whenever I hit the two numbers whether it be the number of laps to run or the amount of time to keep focus on my studies. Whatever, I'll just keep moving forward I guess. **


	4. Smiling all the time

**Lovesick Radio (IV)  
**

"For the last time young man, I demand a refund…_yada yada yada_…"

The blonde apathetically tried to tune out whatever the old lady was nagging on about. "Next!" he called to the next customer in line. The old lady gaped and continued to sputter nonsense.

"Why I never-! Your boss will certainly be hearing about this, you rude, inconsiderate child! I say, hasn't anyone ever told you to respect your elders?" grandma scolded, furiously flailing the tube of hair growth cream that she wanted refunded. It obviously looked empty and used.

"Look granny, I really can't do anything about your problem. This is the checkout counter and there are a billion people waiting in line behind you. And quite frankly, I just don't give a shit about why the cream didn't work on you. I suggest you just be happy with the hair on top of your head and prance on outta here," he retorted.

God, he hated all the pesky customers dumping their lousy complaints on him. Heck, he hated working at stupid Wal-Mart altogether but he needed this job to pay for Mattie's stupid ukulele which apparently costs 3,000 bucks.

_This totally blows, dude…_

By this time, the old lady was openly requesting for the manager to the other cashiers. Alfred groaned and pushed his glasses up. He readied his eyes, blinking several times to get it to moisten and contorting his face into an unbearably heartbreaking expression. Faking a hiccup, he immediately burst into a sob.

"Listen ma'am. You really have no idea what I'm going through right now. I just got across a major breakup with my semi-abusive ex whom I love very, very much but doesn't have the heart to love me back! Not only that but, uh, I'm… living with a Japanese yakuza...w-with nunchucks! - plus I just found out today that I had a long-lost brother, whose blind by the way, from Canada," he hiccuped and paused for effect.

"And I really, really, really need this job to pay for his butt surgery…which he got from…err…playing the ukulele in his radioactive chesterfield or whatever, every day. So please don't tell my boss about me. He already pays me so low that all I can afford to eat is a can of beans…"

A tear rolled down the 'poor' American's cheek as he stared down the lady with his big, watery eyes. To top that off, he made a whimpering sound and looked as self-conscious as possible. And believe it or not, it actually worked! Bills were being handed to him, left and right, from the people in line of the concession stand. Most were reassuring him with kind comments while others (that being the store's employees) suddenly erupted with their very own sob stories.

Alfred smirked. _Suckers_. And who says he couldn't act? Jolie will rue the day she dissed Alfred F. Jones off of his rightly acclaimed fame and fortune. However, Alfred's smug smile died away as his eyes traveled to a certain blonde walking towards the grocery aisle.

In a flash, he made a bee-line for the instant beverages section where the green-eyed Brit was heading.

_Oh-my-god! It's Arthur! It's totally him! What the heck is he doing here? Could it be that he heard I was working in Wal-Mart and now he wants to sneak and peek at my effin' good looks? Oh…Alfred, you should've seen this coming, bro. _The American shuffled behind a stack of Cheerios, peeping silently like a creepy stalker.

There he was; his dear Arthur smiling fondly at the tea rack searching for a specific brew. A big band aid was on his forehead (the injury being something he _might_ have caused). The emerald-eyed Brit was humming softly and sorting through all the different tea brands. Alfred couldn't help but crack a smile himself.

In fact he wore such an unhealthy, lovesick grin, that some shoppers were shooting him odd looks only to find out that he was one of the employees. A little boy wearing his cute little hat and Pokémon shirt came up to him asking where the peanut butter was.

Alfred replied irritably, "Beat it, kid. I'm kinda busy right now if it isn't already obvious…"

Arthur turned to look at where the sound was coming from. A puzzled expression sported his face before scavenging for his tea again. Strange. There was nobody there… He supposed he was hearing things again. A trip to a psychiatrist suddenly sounded good right about now, but first and fore-mostly, he needed his tea.

Alfred let out a sigh of relief as he squatted behind a much larger rack of tea merely a foot away from Arthur. He had the sudden urge to just hug the man right there when he heard Arthur impatiently mumbling.

"These are all simply atrocious American brands. I can't find my tea, anywhere….Oh! There's one. How much? Pfft…bloody tories. Well, I don't suppose they have them here in America, but still…"

_He must be looking for his favorite tea or something. _Alfred looked around and found the brand right in front of where he was hiding. Not knowing what else to do, he threw the box at Arthur's head and ran back to the checkout counters.

"Blast it all! That's the second time this week!" exclaimed the Brit. Finally taking notice of the box of tea he added, "Ooh, what a bargain!"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**Yeah, now that I look back at all the chapters, it feels like I'm writing like an excited SoCal girl. Which is fine by me, except it makes me feel kinda silly for my ridiculously childish sense of humor. If it's even called that. Pfft, I don't care anymore. I'm going to keep writing this 'til I hit my goal. Thank you guys for reviewing the previous episode. **


	5. And you wanna be just friends

**Lovesick Radio (V)  
**

**From Arthur's POV  
**

I was reading a cooking magazine patiently while waiting in line for the woman in front of me to finish checking out her tremendous shopping list. In contrast, the people behind me were growing impatient, to say the least. Usually, I'd be as cranky and annoyed as anyone would have been in that situation, but I was currently entranced in reading 'How to Make British Scones without Setting off the Fire Alarm or Burning the House Down.'

Plus I really shouldn't be one to judge as I myself have dozens of tea packages to scan out…

"Next customer, please!"

I looked up from my magazine with a rather charming smile only to find myself face to face with my hyperactive ex-boyfriend. That's right, I said _ex. _We broke up ages ago from a stupid argument about aerosol cheese cans. Go ahead and laugh, I would too if it wasn't for the best years of my life being taken away from me by easy spray on cheese.

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. I mean, honestly, what _could _have I said? _How's life? What have you been doing? Do you have any new friends I should be worried about? _

I shifted uncomfortably hearing groans from the people in the back of me. I glanced back up at Alfred who was grinning from ear to ear like a complete idiot. His childish blue eyes were sparkling as usual and that annoying cowlick of his, still poking out of his hair. Nothing seemed to have changed. I presume he took our breakup rather well.

_Very good, Alfred. I'm glad to see you finally grown up. _

Instead I opted for a casual, "Good day, Al…fred."

"Sup Arthur!" he replied quickly. Perhaps a bit _too_ quickly.

"Yes. Well, I've been… spectacular. I got a new haircut yesterday and an absolutely smashing new necktie. It has bunnies on it!"

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! He never asked how I was doing! Hold on a minute, 'sup' means 'how are you' in American, right? Bloody hell, why can't they learn to just speak proper English! _

"Uhh…yeah… that's cool, man," Alfred uttered awkwardly. Perhaps a bit _too _awkwardly.

"…yes, they are very nice…"

_Awkward…_

A man coughed rather exaggeratedly behind me. I pushed my groceries to Alfred and he absentmindedly scanned them while continuing to stare at me with those big eyeballs of his. I looked away self-consciously. Was there something on my face?

_Scan. Beep! Glance. _

_Scan. Beep! Glance. _

_Scan. Beep! Glance. _

_Scan Beep! Glan- _"So…I see you're working now, huh? That's new…" I attempted, hopeful to break the uncomfortable atmosphere between us.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I had to get the job to pay for Mattie's ukulele. I…accidentally destroyed it in a million pieces."

"I thought Matthew played the violin?"

"Nah, I'm pretty sure it was a ukulele…"

"…right…," I said uneasily. The tension was swooping back again.

_Scan. Beep! Glance. _

_Scan. Beep! Glance._

Just a couple more boxes to go and I can make a run for it…

"Anyways, I'm glad you seem to be doing well, Alfred. I was worried you'd commit suicide or something but you're obviously coping very cheerfully. I've moved on myself, although to be honest, it wasn't easy at first."

The American's eyes lit up for a moment then became puzzled. He was about to open his mouth when I interrupted him.

"B-but of course, now I'm much, much better. I find myself surprisingly less stressed out and in a good mood these days. I've even stopped drinking again. Perhaps it was a good idea for us to find our separate ways."

"Arthur, I-"

"But that doesn't mean we can't be acquaintances anymore. How about it, Mr. Alfred Jones? _Friends_?" I stuck up my hand in a friendly handshake. He flinched once, and then suddenly tackled me to the ground.

The force nearly made me black out. Alfred was crushing me with his weight. One hundred and forty-five pounds worth of meat and muscle was definitely enough to crush my bones as he squeezed my body with his powerful arms. I swear, I could have just died right there. It was a miracle that I didn't.

"I love you Artie! I missed you so frickin' much. I've been so lonely all these months. You can't imagine how many times I've hugged your favorite green sweater and slacks without thinking of you! I love you, I love you, I abso-frickin-lutely love you babycakes! And I know you definitely miss your superman too!" Alfred jabbered noisily, practically announcing it to the whole world.

"Oi! Ya two lovebirds finished or what!" A smart arse in the back hollered.

My face heated up like crazy and I tried to push him away. "Get off of me, you git!"

"But I love you so much, Iggy-kins. Come on! Give me another chance! I can change! I…I'll put up with all your never ending naggings…and I'll actually eat your cooking for once. I promise I won't secretly spit it out under the table even though it's, like, totally gross and stuff."

"You spitted out the food I made for you?"

"Uh..."

I shook my head and managed to shove him off. I immediately collected my plastic bags leaving the proper amount of cash on the counter. "N-never mind. Look Alfred, it's not _me_. It's _you_."

_Wow, very cliché…but it works for the situation._

Before I realized it, Alfred was already clinging onto my leg ruining my new trouser with his runny nose.

"Please I need you!"

"Let go, Alfred!" With one big jerk, I pulled away, but this time I didn't hesitate to scamper on out of the bloody store. I turned to see my crazy ex sprinting after me like a murderous mad man. He was waving a chocolate bar in one arm and another sweet on the other.

"Wait Arthur! Before you leave, would you like to buy any of our candy products? They're 30 percent off with the purchase of $70 and up!" he called.

"No!" I screamed back.

"The gum's $2 off! Special discount!"

"Naff off!"

"What? Is that a yes?"

"Go die in a hole!"

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**1. I apologize for Arthur and Alfred's OOC-ness. I also realize that this isn't exactly the best story I've ever written but then again the whole thing is all in good fun...and boredom.  
**

**2. One more chapter and a step closer to my goal. Chapter 6 is coming up, although I haven't really written anything yet. I'm still brainstorming it. It's been sort of a reoccurring thing for me to stop writing on the 5th chapter, but this time I will break the chain! **


	6. I found a box of notes you wrote

**Lovesick Radio (VI)  
**

**From Alfred's POV**

I shifted in bed for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. Today's events played an instant replay in my head from when I saw Artie in the grocery aisle, to chasing him all the way to his car in the parking lot. But even way before that when he said, _"….doesn't mean we can't be acquaintances anymore. How about it, Mr. Jones? Friends?" _

_Friends…._

It was a completely offensive word to have even come out of my Artie's mouth. _Friends. _I scoffed at the term and wished that it was a scrawny looking dude I could easily beat up.

Me and Arthur can't just be _friends_! For god's sakes, we were dating before that stupid word even existed between us. Nor will it ever, _ever _happen to us. I'd rather die than _just be friends_ with him.

Man, why did this all have to happen? We were both so happy back then. Every day was like an adventure, with Arthur being my sidekick and me, his awesome superhero. What in the world happened to us?

It seems like it was only yesterday that Arthur promised me that we'd always be together and he'd be there every day I wake up. I remember how we would cuddle in his little house uptown with only the TV on and how sometimes when Artie wasn't in the mood, we'd just talk about random stuff. Sometimes it would be about his family back in England or something deep and philosophical that I really don't understand. I threw in a couple of intelligent words in between just so he knows I was listening. He knew, of course, that I had no idea what I just said so he would burst into a laugh and make a stupid comment about how "divvy" and "scatty" I was. Whatever the hell that means. It's kinda hard to understand him sometimes; he being British and all, but nevertheless, I still love him.

And Arthur's room always smelled like tea and hot chocolate. It was very homey and I actually spend more time there than in my own apartment. Speaking of hot chocolate, I gotta say that Arthur makes the best in the world. It was like a tradition for us to share a steaming mug of hot cocoa during the month of December. In turn, I'd give in and actually drink some of his tea during January. But _February_. February was the best month of the year!

Arthur would write these ridiculously long essays (he calls them notes) about how much he adores me and send 'em via post mail. One year, I came to collect my bills and my four by four mailbox was literally filled to the brim with letters from Arthur. The mailman was right next to my box carrying at least two more bag's worth of letters, all of them just for me. In fact, I think I still have them somewhere.

I jumped out of my bed covers and rummaged under the bed for the epically huge box where I kept them all these years. Sure enough, they were all there. Exactly 3,000 love notes (about a thousand for each year we've spent together) sheathed in pink and red envelopes. Some were in the shape of hearts, while others were rolled into long scrolls because of the sentence lengths.

I picked one up randomly and started reading.

_To my dear Alfred,_

_Happy third Valentine's Day, luv! Can you believe that it's already been our third at all? Goodness, I should be awarded a Peace Prize for putting up with you for so long. It shall be titled "The Man who lived through Alfred F. Jone's crazy antics without having to go to a psychiatrist to be emotionally and physically examined." Pretty long title, but I must say that I do deserve it at the very least. But never mind that, I do think that you have also earned a prize for yourself. _

_You, good sir, have just won a basket of my award winning scones and crumpets! Having known you long enough, I can only expect that you were anticipating a sort of physical interaction with yours truly. But alas, my scones are just as good of a gift. Furthermore, I should really be asking you a dreaded question; will you be my Valentine? Presumably that I already have that claim, of course, I'm sure you will consent to the agreement. Just in case you do have a different person in mind, expect every lady (and gents) you are associated with to be covered in warts and turned into frogs. _

_I'm kidding. I certainly wouldn't curse them all. That is, I don't know most of their names so the spell wouldn't work….or would it? _

_Forever yours,_

_Arthur K. (Not 'Iggy', mind you!)_

_P.S_

_- I love you. _

_We're never gonna break up. _

But look at us now, Artie… You don't even wanna look at me anymore. Pouting, I stared at the rest of the letters, each one signed with X and O's.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**

**Hooray! I made it through six chapters and now I feel more confident to continue my other stories! But first, I'm going to finish what I started with this story. **


	7. At Least I can Pretend

**This is the last chapter! Not only that but it's also my first ever completed chapter story (granted that it was kind of cheap and cheesy). Now it's time to get back to my other stories!  
**

**Warning: This chapter is extremely cheesy and even stupid. I don't know what I was thinking when I made it but I'm surprisingly satisfied with it. Read on, but you have been warned.  
**

* * *

**Lovesick Radio (VII)  
**

Here he was again, in front of Arthur's house. At two o'clock in the morning as usual, sitting by the gates, only this time with a bandaged hand and a bottle of vodka he'd picked up somewhere in a Russian minimarket. Taking another swig of the malodourous alcohol, Alfred decided that enough was enough. He groggily picked himself up, almost collapsing in the process, and stumbled to the Englishman's doorstep.

Luckily, he also had his guitar with him to use as a sort of cane. It was a beautiful piece, picked out by none other than Arthur himself. Despite the Brit's strict and stern attitude, Arthur had a completely opposite punk side to him. Alfred found this the hard way when he foolishly challenged Arthur to a bass solo competition. In doing so, he found the man's mind-blowing skills with an eight string (that's right, _eight strings_) and lost fifty bucks, plus hamburger rights.

Coming to Arthur's bedroom for the first time, Alfred was met with at least a dozen guitars, each a different type ranging from simple acoustics to electric guitars. Posters of punk bands littered the walls next to his bookshelves each sporting a peculiarity with the hair or facial expression. Arthur was a bit embarrassed with his punk obsession but cracked a smile when his boyfriend rated it enthusiastically.

To be honest, Alfred was more of a pop and country boy, but punk seemed like a good change of pace at that time. Throughout the years, the American accumulated stickers to put on his guitar, which the Brit greatly disapproved of and it was _not _just because most of the stickers were of the stars and stripes.

Alfred propped on leg up on the bench in front of the house and set the guitar on his leg. He fiddled with the acoustic trying to tune it before breaking out into small and easy strums. The blonde hummed the tune to their favorite song and plucked it on his guitar.

They had found the song skimming each other's CDs in the car and it was pretty much the only song they could both enjoy listening to. Arthur refused to hear Hank William's _Honky Tonk Blues _(which was "a true western classic" for the record) and Alfred couldn't bear the earsplitting screams of the Brit's heavy metal songs. However, the couple instantly fell in love with _their _song as soon as it started playing. Granted that it was an _American_ pop song several decades old.

Alfred steadied his guitar finally bursting out into the song.

"You're just too good to be true.

Can't take my eyes off of you.

You'd be like heaven to touch.

I wanna hold you so much.

At long last love has arrived.

And I thank God I'm alive.

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you," the lyrics came out a bit slurred because of the alcohol in Alfred's system but it did not fail to do its job. In less than a second, Arthur was leaning out of his balcony looking very confused and disheveled. The man's hair was even messier than ever possible and there were dark bags under his moss-green eyes.

"What on earth are you doing here?" he called bewilderedly. To this Alfred sang even louder,

"I love you baby and if it's quite alright

I need you baby to warm the lonely nights

I love you baby. Trust in me when I say~"

Arthur's eyes widened, his face turning a bright, scarlet red. "Hush up, you idiot! The whole neighborhood is will hear you!"

Alfred gave him a drunken look that said 'that's the point; to scream it to the whole world that I love you Artie!'

"I need you baby, don't let me down, I pray.

Oh pretty baby, now that I found you, stay.

And let me love you, baby let me love you~" he howled. Lights turned on one by one in the surrounding houses as Alfred finished the chorus.

"Will you get out of here!" By now Arthur was hurling whatever he could get hold of in his room at the American down below.

"Not until you come down!" Alfred called back dodging a flying stuff toy and hair brush. He was thankful it wasn't one of Arthur's thick volumes of law books.

"Are you crazy!"

Alfred let out an exasperated breath and a smile. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

Arthur halted to a stop after throwing his alarm clock straight at the blue eyed blonde's head. He made a childish 'hmph' and disappeared inside. Alfred stood there clutching his guitar unsure what to do. In less than a moment he heard the front door clink and creak open. Arthur hid behind the door expecting a surprise attack. "Get on with it. What do you want?"

"Several things. One, an aspirin would be real nice. My head's killing me and my hand isn't doing so good either," he held up his poorly bandaged hand sheepishly. "And fourth, I really need to talk to you, man."

Arthur raised an unamused, fuzzy eyebrow. "_First of all, _the correct term is 'well' not 'good', so the sentence is read, 'my hand is not doing so well either.'" Alfred stifled a laugh at this.

"And _second,_" Arthur emphasized the word, "you may come inside but I suggest you hush up."

The young man hesitantly opened the door for Alfred and ushered him in. Lights were turned on in a dim setting and the room brightened to a brilliant gray. Alfred could hear Arthur in the bathroom shuffling through the cabinets for an aspirin. Suddenly a sharp migraine overtook his senses and he groaned, resting his head on a table.

And that's when Arthur came back with a glass of water and a little pill. The American graciously took it and chugged down the water. He turned to Arthur with a thankful grin.

"Thanks. I seriously needed that." The Brit crinkled his nose in repulsion. He inched away from his guest pinching his nose.

"Bloody hell Alfred! You smell simply revolting. Have you been drinking?"

He scratched his head guiltily with his bandaged hand. "Yeah…sorta."

"Should I even ask what happened to that hand of yours?" Arthur seemed genuinely interested but he tried not to show it. He looked at Alfred expecting a good, rational answer. What came out of his mouth, however, was not a very good one.

"I punched holes in all my walls…and then it started bleeding. I tried fixing it but Kiku and Mattie saw and kicked me out. He's still angry with the whole ukulele thing, I guess..."

"You are such a dumb-arse." Arthur whacked him upside the head before dressing the wound properly with a new roll of bandage. They both stayed silent for they really didn't have anything to say. Alfred's face grew pinker, not from the alcohol itself, but from the sudden contact with his former lover. From his position, he could still smell Arthur's scent; tea and autumn rain with a hint of cocoa. A comment left the American's mouth unintentionally.

"How was the hot chocolate? It's been raining pretty cold recently even though, spring's already started. Perfect weather for a mug on a rainy day and a holiday is what I used to say," he sighed.

"A-Ah…y-yes. It was, umm, very good a-actually," Arthur sputtered as the question caught him off guard. "Perchance, h-how did you know that?"

Before the two of them could realize, Alfred pulled the smaller man into his arms with his nose tucked on the Brit's spiky, golden locks. "You smell of it."

Alfred chuckled inaudibly and added, "And you kinda have a chocolate mustache."

He wiped the stain from Arthur's upper lip with the sleeve of his jacket. Arthur's ears grew hot and furiously he rubbed the rest of the milk from his mouth. He cleared his throat awkwardly refusing to make eye contact.

"I'm surprise you still drink it. From what I can remember, you always complained about it and asked for tea instead," Alfred continued burying his nose deeper into the man's hair.

"Y-yes, w-well…" Damn it. He couldn't make a good comeback. He struggled to think of a smart one fast. Arthur opened his mouth to speak but once again, Alfred beat him to it.

"I really missed you Arthur. I don't think I can bear waking up without you anymore. Please. _Please_, come back. I'll get down and beg on my knees if I have to." He demonstrated this by literally getting down on his knees and kissing Arthur's hand causing the Brit to squeak in surprised.

"Look Alfred, I…," Arthur began shyly. Alfred's eyes lit up. _Yes! This is it! This is the part where Arthur admits he loves me again and we'll live happily ever after like the endings on most of those USUK fanfics! Hallelujah! _

That dream was forever shattered when Arthur peeled off his face revealing cheery little Peter.

Alfred's eyes turned into the size of large dinner plates as he released the boy from his arms. While sputtering unintelligent words and pointing at Peter, Arthur crept into the room loading a shiny new musket. It was only when Alfred heard the gun click that he realized that the other man was in the room scrutinizing the way he was holding his dear, little brother's hand like an obsessed courtesan.

"Arthur! P-Put the gun down, I swear it's not what it looks like. I-I can explain!" the poor American defended, cautiously eyeing the gun that was pointed at a dead aim. If he was smart, he would've just skedaddled on out of there but for some reason he stood his ground against the green-eyed mercenary.

"Aye, lad. There'd belter be a good reason why yer snoggin' my bruv like that, ya wee bastirt," the Brit replied with a heavy accent. He shockingly peeled his face, just as easily as Peter, to reveal roaring red hair and sharp, white teeth.

"Scotty!" yelped Alfred. He jumped and held Peter in front of him for protection. "I thought you said he was gone in Scotland for a time off, twerp," he whispered crossly at the child.

"He just came back today!" Peter shrugged.

"Oi! Git yer pretty boy arse over here and take it like a man!" Scott positioned his aim like a skilled expert at a different angle as to not hit Peter but surely kill Alfred. Much to his displeasure, the American did not succumb to the threat and held Peter as a shield.

"Amur gonnae count tae ten now and ah suggest ye put 'im down…ane... twa… thrie… fower… five… sax… seiven… aicht… nyne…" The Scot was now itching to pull the trigger.

"What in the bloody hell are you three doing down here so fucking early in the morning?"

Just like the two before him, another Arthur appeared before Alfred in his night clothes and bedraggled hair. It took a moment to sink in his brother and ex's position in warfare. In an instant after realizing, he grabbed his brother's arm holding the musket and directed it away from the two victims.

"Drop the gun, brother. We can handle this without shooting somebody's head off. As for you," Arthur directed to Alfred, "Kindly release my brother if you don't want to get hurt even more than I'm planning to make it."

Peter was released immediately and he skipped away to answer the rapping door.

"Is that really you, Arthur?" Alfred yanked Arthur's face for good measures with the Englishman screaming, "Of course this is me, now let go of my face!"

"Sorry dude, wacky morning today."

_You're telling me…_

Suddenly, Matthew exploded from the door riding on top of a Canadian moose. The fellow was wearing a bright, red Mountie uniform and holding a firearm. The normally peaceful Canadian was fuming with anger as he aimed his gun at the American.

"This is for my violin, eh?" Matthew fired his gun, approximately missing Alfred by a hair.

"Shit! You're crazy dude!" Alfred rolled over away from the door narrowly missing Scott's swipe with his musket. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kiku behind the Canadian muttering curses in Japanese. Of all people, Alfred did not expect his Japanese friend to be part of this predicament. What was the world coming to!

As if the situation wasn't fucked up enough, a blonde man entered from an open window carrying wine and cheese. "_Wait for moi_! I want to play to!"

In a blink of an eye, everyone was chasing him: Matthew was screaming a battle cry with his pet moose, Peter was riding on a billygoat while big brother, Scott trotted behind on a grey sheep his musket on one hand and the bagpipes on the other, and following after was a beautiful white horse with Arthur clad in an iron knight getup. Trailing at the very end was Francis and his red rose censored privacy.

Alfred ran and ran but he never seemed to go any faster than snail's pace. The others were gradually getting closer and shooting at him from all directions. He looked around for a place to hide and found himself in Wal-Mart's parking lot. A mailman had joined the chase showering him with massive piles of blood red cards. Alfred opened his mouth to scream but also found it duct tape shut. He ripped the tape from his face but another layer appeared under the other.

Arthur was now gaining upon him ahead of the group. In desperation, Alfred jumped on a metal shopping cart (or trolley for the Brits) and rolled away. Arthur was now jabbing him with a large jousting rod, laughing maniacally. The poor bloke wanted scream from all the hurt but the tape prevented him from releasing even a hoarse breath.

Thankfully, that was when he woke up. For some this ending is a total rip off, but for America it was a blessing from above. _America _blinked his cerulean irises open and released a sigh of relief. Right beside him was a peaceful, non-jousting _England _raising a rather humorous eyebrow. A taunting smirk was permanently placed on his amused expression as America shirked away uneasily.

America searched for Texas on his bedside table and got out a calendar. He almost cried of joy as when he saw the date.

"February! It's February 15!" he exclaimed to a confused England.

"I suppose it is…?"

"Don't you get it, dude? It's February 15, Not May 28! It's _not _May 28! I'm not gonna die!"

"I…don't…understand…"

"Okay, so I, like, totally had a whacked out dream and Canada was there, well his name was Matthew for some reason, but anyways, you were in it, and Scotland and Japan and… and Seaworld was there too! And so your old bro was like counting down to shoot me and he was all like 'an, twa, thrie, fower…' and-"

"For you information, Scotland does not sound like that! That was obviously all part of your imagination, you twit," England cut in unpleasantly.

"But-"

"I don't want to hear it, America. Now kindly get your arse out of bed and help me with breakfast. My brothers as well as yours, will be arriving any moment now and I don't want them arguing about the lack of _good _food and blah blah blah..." England threw a pillow at the dumbfounded country and walked off to the kitchen.

America was left there fixing the bed, wondering who Alfred F. Jones was and why Arthur Kirkland shockingly resembled England. Most importantly, why was his dream so cheesy and disturbing?

'_Him and England? Seriously? The world must be ending tomorrow or something!'_ America mused.

"Hey America! Where is the cheese? I can't seem to find it in this enormous refrigerator of yours!" England called from the kitchen.

"Just use the can of aerosol cheese! It's on the very back!" he called back.

"I refuse to eat false cheese from something so disgusting. For the last time, where is the _cheese_?"

"Use the spray-on. It's pretty much the same thing! Damn it England, why do you have to be so picky?"

_Hmm…de ja vu much? _


End file.
